


Gay for Boobs

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Category: Ugly Betty
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 12:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4961254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amanda has problems with the definitions of sexuality in today’s crazy culture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gay for Boobs

Seriously, Amanda thinks that if you’re gay for boobs, you aren’t gay. Everyone likes boobs — well, except for Marc, but Marc doesn’t count. Besides, that’s how you know a man’s got gay tendencies, when magnificent ta-tas don’t even raise a flicker of interest.

“Amanda, why are you always trying to redefine gay so that it doesn’t apply to you?” Betty asks, frowning slightly.

Amanda would frown too if she thought those bangs flattered her face shape, but Betty is probably trying to, yawn, inject her open mind into things that are not her business.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just saying that I know girls who are straight about everything else want to just reach out and squeeze a nice pair of melons,” Amanda explains, hefting and clutching her own breasts.

God, she has great knockers. It’s too bad that she’s not the daughter of rock legend Gene Simmons after all, because he could leverage her boobs into fame and fortune. But it’s more important to have love, because sooner or later, Amanda will usurp a Real Housewife, or Bravo will showcase The World’s Best Receptionists and she’ll be set.

“Yeah, but you said that because you reached out and felt me up,” Betty points out, pushing her glasses up on her nose.

Oh, that’s right. Amanda has been drinking her favorite Midori-based drink and Betty had come by wearing this incredibly awful turtleneck that actually gave some sense of definition to her waist that had made Betty’s boobs look freaking huge.

Amanda had been pretty sure they were an optical illusion, so she’d reached out and touched someone.

Turns out they’re real, which is kind of impressive.

“I couldn’t tell if you were packing or if I was hallucinating the mamacitas,” Amanda replies with a shrug. “Whatever, they’re real. Which would be more apparent if you didn’t wear hideous, brightly-colored sacks like you were trying to be the world’s biggest pinata.”

Betty gets that look on her face, the semi-offended lecture look. Marc has this theory that Betty actually likes to get offended, because then she gets to lecture, and Betty loves to butt in and lecture them all with her salt-of-the-earth values.

Marc also has this theory that JC Chasez and Mario Lopez are having a big gay affair thanks to their groundbreaking work on America’s Next Top Dance Crew. Amanda can believe JC is gay, but damn it, AC Slater is not allowed to be gay. AC Slater will someday have a chance to ogle Amanda’s boobs during some reality show or on their inevitable guest spot on How I Met Your Mother and he will say “nice rack.”

“Amanda, are you drunk?” asks Betty suddenly.

“Yeah?” Amanda says.

“Amanda, it’s three-thirty,” Betty says. “And we’re at work.”

“I’m mourning the tragic existence of your sweater,” Amanda says. Actually, she had a too-long lunch that was basically eighty percent Midori and twenty percent carrot sticks because she was trying to woo an agent.

Bastard had stuck her with the bill.

Okay, she’d stuck the bill to Mode, but STILL. She was Fey Sommers’ daughter and almost Gene Simmons’ daughter, and agents were lower than the low. He’d made Amanda feel like maybe she’s not national broadcast hot. More like dinner theater, local news hot.

“You shouldn’t drink at work,” Betty says, folding her arms, maybe to protect her surprisingly bouncy and real breasts from Amanda. “Are you okay?”

“I tried to woo an agent today, and he like…I am mega-super-hot, right?” Amanda asks, not understanding why her mouth and her brain are not connecting at all.

That’s right. Midori is the cause of Amanda’s current predicament. Also, evil fake agent guy making her feel so not-hot that she’s going to Betty for affirmation.

“Wow, you are totally not okay,” Betty says. “Should I get Marc?”

Amanda shakes her head sloppily. “No! He’ll make fun of me, or he’ll make us boy-watch and I can’t deal with that right now,” she says. “Marc drools.”

Betty nods, like maybe Amanda has a second head. Oh, great, Amanda’s not only just local-weather-girl hot, _Betty_ is giving her the eye of “ooh, this bitch is crazy.” What’s going on here, really, seriously, really?

“Well, I think you should maybe go somewhere private so as not to humiliate yourself too badly,” Betty says primly. “You smell like fruity beverages.”

“You smell, too!” says Amanda, totally offended. “Fine. I’ll go hide in my mother’s secret love dungeon, because apparently I am, actually, a scary troll just pretending to be a hot girl.”

Betty’s eyebrows crease and her mouth does this funny thing. “Okay…not a scary troll,” she begins. “You know what…forget it. Let’s just go to the love dungeon so you can cry it out.”

She holds her hand out and Amanda takes it. Amanda hates feeling all gross and icky. Maybe Betty can get her dad to make food. Even if emotional eating is a symptom of Amanda’s deep inner angst, or anyway, that’s what this psychologist trying to get into her pants the other night said.

“Did you know now that LiLo is with Sam Ronson, it’s totally okay for hot girls to date manly looking girls?” Amanda asks as Betty patiently walks them into the dungeon. “And because LiLo has screwed more men than child support, it’s clearly not really gay.”

Betty shakes her head over and over again. “Okay, look,” she says. “If you ever tell Marc I said this, I will never, ever let you have any of the food my papi makes ever again. But if it will make you feel better, we can make out and you can pretend you’re Lindsey Lohan.”

Amanda almost cries, because this is just about the nicest thing anyone has ever done for her. Also, Betty so totally gets her, because Daniel would totally not have gotten the kind of thing going through Amanda’s head at this moment, even if Amanda explained, and Betty’s just like, bam, on it.

“I like the food your papi makes,” Amanda admits. “Oh, screw it. I just like eating. I wish that it was fashionable to eat sometimes. And…and…I like boobs, but I really like penis, too. Isn’t that weird?”

Betty tilts her head. “You sound like Callie on Grey’s Anatomy,” she points out.

Amanda considers this and shrugs. That’s also totally true.

God, it’s like being semi-lez might be the new thing. Grey’s Anatomy has lesbians, and now there’s LiLo and Ronson, plus Amanda has to admit that she’s sneaked a few looks at the L Word when she’s scamming on Marc’s Showtime.

“Well, come on,” Amanda says. “Breasts are good times. Being gay for breasts shouldn’t be a thing.”

“And we’re back to where we started. Come on, Amanda. Make out with me so you can test your gay boundaries and I can get back to work,” Betty says.

Amanda knows a challenge when she hears one. And there’s no way she’s letting Betty keep her upper hand, even if Betty’s being nice to her. That is not how Amanda rolls.

So there’s only one thing for it. Amanda leans in, but before she puckers up, she makes a statement.

“Oh, I’m going to, and you’re going to love it,” she snarls, licking her lips. “Because I am so, so much hotter than the local weather girl, and my breasts are so awesome as to turn any woman temporarily gay for boobs.”

That done, Amanda is ready for the making out now.


End file.
